Think of, O heart, some remedy 1241 To cure this chronic malady. Bless O mind! you pine in vain 1242 For me he has no love serene. O mind, why pine and sit moody? 1243 Who made you so pale lacks pity. Take these eyes and meet him, O heart 1244 Or their hunger will eat me out. He spurns our love and yet, O mind, 1245 Can we desert him as unkind? Wrath is false, O heart, face-to face. 1246 Sans huff, you rush to his sweet embrace. Off with love O mind, or shame 1247 I cannot endure both of them. Without pity he would depart! 1248 You sigh and seek his favour, poor heart! The lover lives in Self you know; 1249 Whom you think, mind to whom you go? Without a thought he deserted us 1250 To think of him will make us worse.